37. Imparted Knowledge
Imparted Knowledge
ALASTAIR
Sun carved through the broad stern windows, pouring through the tall panes to spill across the polished oak of my desk.
Its golden hue illuminated scattered charts, some of Caspian’s well-worn journals I’d spent time hunting through, and the infamous ink that chronicled every route my crew and I had sailed.
Next to the six sections of windows rested scarlet curtains, draped and tied by a fine hand I knew all too well—Leilani.
The brush of her lips was all I remembered from early dawn before she had peeled them back, only to return one more time for a fleeting kiss.
Kind enough to conceal me behind the privacy of the velvet drapes that cocooned our privacy, the click of the door had been the only indication of her departure.
And, as I lay nestled in the plushness of our bed, still exhausted from the prior day, my gratitude for her soared as it always had.
My world. My everything.
My wicked little fang.
Now seated where I spent nearly too much time, my eyes roved over the alcove of our makeshift den.
The twin shelves that framed either side overflowed with books, navigational texts, and other treasured curiosities we’d picked out during our time at sea.
Polished, the dark wood of the bookshelves and their golden accents had been designed to draw wandering eyes.
Resting atop one on the left, the prop of the Scarlet Tempest served a similar distraction—a piece Parran had carved of driftwood as a means to express their gratitude for us both.
Admiring its perfected shapes one more time, my gaze moved to our covered sanctuary to ensure I had shrouded it in shadow. It was the one spot in our bedroom that I kept buried in secrecy. One I allowed no other to bear witness to, for it harbored the depth of her vulnerability and my intimacy.
I pulled my chin from its position on my closed fist, attention settling on the Fae who had snagged me from my position behind the helm. “So the current captain of the Bloodmarked wishes to set foot in enemy territory.”
Ignis, who stood before me wearing nothing more than a pair of blue fitted trousers and a silken cape adorned with a plethora of flowers, nodded in confirmation. “Do you disagree with his reasoning?”
“No.” Leaning back, I folded my fingers over my abdomen. “Not necessarily, though waving off the risk is not the type of man I am. Isn’t that right, Parran?”
Snowy locks freshly primed, they spun around from their place at the window—a spot they frequently occupied whenever I worked at my desk.
“I… I’m sorry. I was being far more attentive to Ellira’s beauty than to the discussion.
That is my fault for…” Their words trailed, and when they spoke again, their tone was sharper. “Where did you get that from?”
Unsure of their query, I moved to glance over my shoulder, but Ignis stopped me.
“This?” he asked, lifting a section of the fabric from his bare frame. “Syoran.”
“It’s pretty…” After a brief pause, they shook their head, glancing down at me with massive pools of cornflower. “I’m… sorry. What was the question, Captain?”
“Ace,” I corrected with a gentle smile before gesturing to the newly added crew member. “Syoran feels we should return to Serevalen, to which I humbly admitted I am not a man who simply disregards risk. Would you feel that is true?”
They dipped their chin, sunlight glinting across the pearlescent scales lining their throat. “Yes, that is true.”
Satisfied, I drummed my fingers over the dark oak. “What of your thoughts, Ignis? Do you find Syoran’s direction misinformed or valid?”
“Warranted.”
“Solely because he has shown you favoritism?”
Scoffing, his brow bones narrowed as he pinned me with a glare.
“Us Fae”—he gestured between Parran and himself—“are not enslaved creatures. If anything, we stand alongside you in this war. Even if favors were passed, they would not be deemed as such, for we see you as you are, not beings whose egos we have to stroke.”
A stifled laugh mixed with an attempted cough came from my right, the sound gleeful in its own right. It was one I hadn’t heard before, a rawness slipping through the walls Parran had withdrawn in Ignis’ presence.
Trying but failing to gather their bearings, Parran chimed in to redirect. “Differences aside… are you wary for other reasons, captain?”
“It’s Ace, Parran. You are not and have never been obligated to address me so formally.
” My timbre lacked sternness, and I failed to prevent my lips from upturning.
Gaze settling on Ignis once more, I offered him a grin.
“Noted. And now that you have imparted your thoughts upon me, I would like to pass mine along.”
Not giving him the chance to intervene, I pushed myself to stand. As I snatched my dagger from where I’d placed it, Parran’s eyes widened, concern blanketing their expression. In response, I returned it to the sheath on my side before closing the gap between Ignis and me.
Resting my hand on Ignis’ shoulder, I continued, “Tell Syoran that myself and whoever elects to join will make an appearance on his ship in the next couple of hours.” With a gentle squeeze, my hold loosened, and I stepped away, but not before adding, “To discuss sailing routes. We will follow his lead.”
Drumming my knuckles against the closed door of the medical bay for the fourth time, not a single answer greeted me yet again.
With a lengthened exhale, I settled my hand on the worn wood partition before ushering it open.
Half expecting Rohen to either rip my head clean off my body as soon as I crossed the threshold or to have briefly slipped away for fresh air, I halted at what greeted me instead.
Auburn strands spilled over the bottom of the cot Caspian occupied, decorating it with a liveliness the otherwise colorless sheets could not provide.
Folded over its unforgiving frame and seated in a chair she’d snagged from…
somewhere, Rohen rested her head on Caspian’s thigh.
With her arm settled on his stomach, I traced its length before catching sight of her fingers overlapping his with a gentleness I once would have never expected from such a broken woman.
My mouth curled as I approached with caution, grabbing one of the spare blankets from Parran’s perfectly curated stacks. Unfolding it, I draped the lush, regal fabric around her shoulders before running my fingers through her hair.
“Ro.”
Her deep inhale served as her first reply before she groaned. “Hmm?”
“There is no way in the gods’ names that you are comfortable like that.”
“Was I not just asleep?” she asked groggily, cracking only one eye to peer up at me.
Not desiring to test my luck, I dodged her question. “How has he been doing?”
As if my curiosity served as ice water and I’d been the one to dump it over her, Rohen sat upright. Chin swiveling, she examined Caspian’s still-resting frame, the tension in her body easing slightly only after she’d made a handful of passes.
Shoulders dropping with minimal relief, she rubbed her eyes with her palms. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t planned on catching some shut eye. It just kind of—”
“Rohen,” I touched her arm softly, “you don’t need to apologize to me.”
Grabbing each corner of the blanket, she wrapped it around herself before leaning back—not into the chair, but into me. “I’m sorry… godsdammit. I did it again, didn’t I?”
“You sure did.”
“I guess I’m still not used to men like you,” she groaned, folding even more into herself.
“Men like me?”
“Yeah. The ones who are kind without condition, gentle without lessons.”
Her utterance broke something in me, the implications of her past surging to the forefront.
I’d witnessed her flinch when a hand got too near and watched as she turned to glance over her shoulder out of fear that someone else was watching.
It hadn’t been difficult to pick up the pieces.
But even then, all I had was an idea of all she’d endured, a piece of an intricate puzzle she allowed me access to, and I wouldn’t press her to share more until she was ready.
“There are no expectations here. There never are,” I reassured, weaving through the settling silence as I gestured to the man who once held my heart in a way I feared even Leilani would never be able to. “How’s… how’s he been doing?”
“Feverish.” Leaning forward just enough, Rohen rested the back of her hand against his forehead. “Still feverish.”
“It’s not breaking?”
She shook her head. “Parran has gone through every elixir they’ve ever used and hasn’t been able to crack it.” An unamused laugh tumbled from her, its raspiness indicative of the concern she continued to try to pretend she didn’t harbor. “Pretty on brand for him, I think.”
Chuckling, mine, too, lacked anything but unrelenting fear. Fear for the man I had wrongfully accused for so long, and all that awaited him. All Sorva had done and wished to do…
“He’ll be okay,” Jaskor stated down our bond, but even a potent sorrow lingered in his tone.
“That’s rather convincing.”
“All of us are concerned, but Elaros has stated he will see to it that Caspian wakes up.” He paused, and when he spoke once more, he sounded further away. “Though it may take a couple of days.”
I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger, a lengthened sigh filling the otherwise still room. Lifting my head, spots danced across my vision, but he still greeted me—pale and limp in a way I had once wished he would be.
A touch brushed across my forearm, one similar to a coax. “You shouldn’t harbor so much self-hatred,” Rohen whispered.
Peering down at her in a mix of shock and awe, I willed myself to let her presence and offered comfort ground me. With an intentional inhale, I unclenched my jaw before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into me.
“Thank you.”
“What?” Genuine confusion wove through the single word.
“Thank you, Rohen. For extending me a graciousness I likely don’t deserve.”
“You act as if I’m a saint,” she grumbled, but sank into me further. “For the gods’ sakes, Alastair, I butchered half of his crew.”
“I’m sure the ways they looked at you, and even touched you, warranted it.”
“That’s beside the point.”
“Is it?”
Her knuckles greeted my side. “Yes, asshole.”
A genuine laugh served as my reply. “Okay, okay, whatever you say, Ro.”
“Ro?” Turning, she gazed up at me. “Since when did I earn a nickname?”
My thoughts roamed, hunting for a specific moment I could provide as an answer to her query, but there wasn’t one.
The two letters had joined naturally, similar to our relationship with one another.
That was the beauty of it, of Rohen; she was unapologetic and rare in that magnitude.
A woman most men took for granted and used solely for her body.
But I didn’t see her like that. The person I bore witness to was one fumbling with becoming herself, someone so used to obeying others’ orders that she hadn’t yet tasted freedom.
But if there was one who could grant her just that, alongside the healing she deserved, it was Caspian Vayne.
“You know. I’m not sure.” Shrugging indifferently as she tossed me an incredulous look, I grinned. “And while I would love to continue entertaining your interrogation, you and I have somewhere to be.”
“Somewhere to be? I’m not leaving Cas—”
“Temporarily,” I reiterated. “Just jumping ships. Syoran has a plan, and, as a valued woman of my crew, I would like you to be present.”
“That sounds a whole lot like an obligation and not an option.”
Ruffling her hair, I said, “Glad we’re on the same page.”
Hands swatted at mine, a handful of curses thrown my way as she worked to fend me off. “Fuck. Fine, I will come to your little meeting. When is it?”
My lips parted in reply, but Jaskor’s utterance swept through my mind, partially broken as he spoke through anguish, “There are sacred texts. Journals. A summoning. All five artifacts. Caspian has them. Look.”
A newfound protectiveness washed over me, my anger spiking at having to hear my own father’s affliction—a pain I could not prevent. Nostrils flaring, I locked eyes with Rohen, and hers flared in understanding before I even extended the command.
“Now.”